Book: Pebbled leather

All excesses are brothers.

With gold, you will always find around you the feelings necessary for well-being.

Treasuries of evil are bottomless.

Love is a naive stream that flows over pebbles, between grasses and flowers, but now the stream becomes a river, a river, changes its nature and appearance from each new tributary, then flows into an immeasurable ocean, which seems to imperfect minds only monotony, and immerses great souls into endless contemplation.

If my mistress in her life is different from other women, if she does not walk, if she lives differently than they do, if she is wearing a mantle, which they cannot have, if a fragrance comes from her that is peculiar to her alone, she is to me like it much more.

I don't understand love in poverty.

Isn't a woman devoid of virtue disgusting?

- About future? What do you call the future? Why should I think about something that does not yet exist? I do not look forward or backward. Isn't it hard enough to think about today?

- About future? What do you call the future? Why should I think about something that does not yet exist? I do not look forward or backward. Isn't it hard enough to think about today?

Aren't the foundations of social order worth a few sacrifices?

Philosophical theories, religions, moral concepts, different under different latitudes, fell under a scythe as long as the scythe of Time. Caught up in a kind of storm, these minds, like waves beating against cliffs, were ready to shake all the laws between which civilizations swim - and thus, without knowing it themselves, carried out the will of God, who left a place in nature for good and evil and kept in secret meaning of their unceasing struggle.

After all, even those who already believe only in the devil are allowed to mourn the youthful paradise, the time of innocence.

I devoted my life to science and thought, but they were not even able to feed me.

Pain, perhaps, is nothing but the ultimate pleasure.